


small graves should not hold soldiers

by killthefangirl



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kinda, Other, Philza is their dad, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, also implied - Freeform, briefly mentioned, excile arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29317938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killthefangirl/pseuds/killthefangirl
Summary: Sitting on the edge, he wondered if anyone would mourn from him.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 143





	small graves should not hold soldiers

**Author's Note:**

> believe me there were way more tags with snide comments but i didnt wanna make them too long
> 
> i speedwrote this in an hour, half delirious, having completely no idea where this was going so
> 
> this fic is about the character not the real person pls and thank u

He’s seen nations fall and morals crumble under the ever present corruption of power. He’s seen good people die as villains, he’s mourned for people still breathing.

Empty shells walking around, parading their skinsuits like spoils of war, nothing but an imitation of a original long gone. Anarchists speaking big words like they meant something in the faces of hungry people who lost the roofs over their heads and the peace they fought for. Shallow alliances held together by mere mutual gain, straining under the smallest signs of a better deal. Familial bonds that turned to nothing in the face of a war, friendships that might as well have never been for how easily they were exchanged for betrayal.

He’s seen how the prospect of three chances let people get reckless, allowed them to be more violent, carrying around weapons like accessories, like everyday things. There was no mourning for a life lost until it was the last one. No compassion to those who felt their bones crack and their flesh flay from the effects of gravity, no time to recover for those who remembered their lungs fill with water, gasping for release even after resurrection. No mourning for a child slain by a friend, for a soldier swallowed by bright sparks.

He wondered if anyone would mourn from him.

He doubted they’d come for him, they never have before and they had no reason to. He had been the reason for the majority of their suffering, the ground zero of the violence that had overtaken the server.

Maybe he would return as a ghost like Wilbur did, god knows he had enough regrets for that.

Maybe he’d stay dead and take all the fighting to the grave with him.

Maybe he’ll die and no one will even notice.

It wasn’t like he left behind much of a meaningful legacy. Most of the things his name was connected to could be attributed to others. The ones that couldn’t would only serve as a bitter reminder of a time long gone.

A tear slid down his cheek, clinging stubbornly to his chin before falling to the bubbling sea of red bellow. He couldn’t see where it landed, the popping bubbles and fizzing embers covering its resting place like a well-kept secret.

He wondered if he’d disappear like that too, blanketed by searing heat, hidden like he was something precious, spending his last moments feeling the gentle caress of molten rock.

There wouldn’t be a body to bury.

He tilted his head back, looking skyward as if to search for the stars. His eyes met a vast expanse of red instead, stretching as far as he could see. It reminded him of too many unpleasant memories, too many mistakes he could’ve prevented. He let his eyelids slide shut.

The temperature was comforting, yet made him feel as if his skin was shriveling it up. His eyes burned from the heat despite the tears pooling in them. Lungs breathed in dry air, feeling on the verge of coughing yet only expanding with shallow, rattling breaths.

His arms were stretched out behind him, skin pulled tight around the bones, yet supporting his frail body, legs swinging freely over the ledge.

Sunken cheeks leaned into the warmth, chasing memories of bucket hats and grey wings.

He opened his eyes slowly. He let his legs still and stretched his stiff limbs, satisfied with the few cracks he heard.

He stood up, looking out over the chaotic landscape, noting with distant fondness it’s inhabitant’s similarity to his alienated brother.

He’ll miss him.

He turned his back to the ledge and stretched his lips into a melancholic smile. With a weak whisper he uttered his last words, a bitter taste filling his mouth, two fingers raised to his forehead in a salute to a place that has long since ceased to exist along with his brother. He closed his eyes, a serene expression taking over his face.

_“It was never meant to be.”_

And he let go.

_TommyInnit tried to swim in lava_


End file.
